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DISCOURSE 

PREACHED IN THE 

CENTER CHURCH, IN NEW HAVEN, AUGUST 27, 1838, 

AT THE FUNERAL OF 

JEHUDI ASHMUN, ESQ. 

COLONIAL AGENT 

OF THE 

AMERICAN COIiOJVY OF MBERIA, 



BY LEONARD BACON. 



WITH THE ADDRESS AT THE GRAVE ; 

BY R. R. GURLEY. 



'•^ of vyas' 
NEW HAVEN: ^ "■' 

PRINTED BY HEZEKIAH HOWE. 
1828. 



8ERMON, &c. 

Matthew xxvi, 8. 
To what purpose is this waste ? 

That incident in the life of our Saviour, from the narra- 
tive of which these words are taken,* affords us a beautiful 
lesson. As Jesus sat at meat in the house of one of his 
friends, Mary, the sister of Lazarus, came with an alabaster 
box of precious ointment, and anointed his feet and wiped 
them with her hair, and brake the box, and poured the oint- 
ment on his head, so that the house was filled with the odor 
of the ointment. And there were some who had indigna- 
tion among themselves, and said. To what purpose is this 
waste ; for this ointment might have been sold for much and 
given to the poor. And they murmured against her. But 
Jesus said. Let her alone; why trouble ye the woman? For 
she hath wrought a good work upon me. Verily I say unto 
you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole 
world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be 
told for a memorial of her. 

The objector in this case was Judas Iscariot. His narrow 
mind looked only at the expense of Mary's costly offering; — 
and why was all this waste ? The objection was plausible ; 
to some, at least, of the disciples it seemed valid. Why did 
our Lord condemn the objection ? Why did he speak of 

"^ Compare Matthew xxvi, 6—13 ; Mark xiv, 3—9; and John xii. 1 — 8. 



this costly expression of affection in terms of so decided 
praise ? It was because he knew and appreciated the ob- 
ject of the sacrifice. The expense, the cost, was all which 
the mind of the objector fastened on ; but the mind of Jesus 
saw, and his feelings honored, the end for which the expen- 
diture was made. He saw that this profusion was in Mary, 
simply the expressive exhibition of her warm attachment to 
her Lord, the indulgence of her humble thankfulness toward 
the benefactor who at her solicitation, in answer to her faith, 
had recalled her brother from the imprisonment of death 
and the decay of the sepulchre. Therefore it was that he 
rebuked those who would condemn her for extravagance, 
and commended that deep and disinterested love which 
prompted an offering so costly. 

Now the lesson which this incident affords us, is, that the 
spirit of christian piety, so far from discouraging, approves 
the expression, even the costly expression of every disinter- 
ested, generous, affectionate feeling. If the feeling is ra- 
tional in itself, if the expression of the feeling is appropriate 
and natural, if the indulgence of it is not inordinate, there 
is nothing in the spirit of christian piety to prompt the mur- 
muring enquiry, " To what purpose is this waste V Chris- 
tians need not be Stoics. Our Lord would not obliterate 
the fine and tender sensibilities of our nature, nor would he 
have us check their free indulgence. He would indeed have 
every thought and desire brought into captivity to the obedi- 
ence of his gospel. He would indeed have love to God and 
love to man, in every soul, the deepest and most controlling- 
principles of action. But at the same time he would give 
its due place, and allow its proper indulgence and natural 
expression to every tender, or noble, or disinterested feeling. 
So beautiful, even in its incidental bearings, is that religion 
which breathes peace and good will to man, which recon- 
ciles the sinner to his God, and which ])roniiscs to renovate 
the aspect of this miserable world. 



I have chosen the text however, not for the sake of dis^ 
coursing on the particular incident in connection with 
which it is spoken ; or for the sake of showing that he who 
commended Mary's ardent gratitude, who had himself wept 
at the grave of Lazarus, and who still feels for our infirmi- 
ties, will not forbid our tears at such a time as this ; but 
rather because the words suggest a topic of reflection which 
seems more especially consistent with the proprieties of this 
occasion. The man whose remains are before us, has died 
a victim to his labors and privations and afflictions under 
the burning sun of Africa. During the few days which he 
has spent among us, he has won the affection and venera- 
tion of all who have had the opportunity of seeing his noble 
qualities. And if we were to speak his eulogy on this occa- 
sion — as well we might — it would probably excite in some 
minds not familiar with the exalted end for which he labored 
unto death, the complaint. To what purpose is this waste ? 
Why is it that such a man who might have been useful here 
at home ; who might have labored successfully in the routine 
of a profession ; who might have risen to wealth, or to some 
high and honorable station, in his native land ; whose mind, 
gifted as it was with vigorous intellect, might have enlarged 
the boundaries of science ; whose lips, rich as they were 
with the power of expression, might have been eloquent at 
the bar, or in the halls of legislation, or in the house of God ; 
— Why is it that such a man has toiled and suffered under 
the uncongenial climate of the tropics, and has fallen in the 
vigor of his maturity a martyr to his zeal ? How can it be 
right for good and valuable men thus to squander their own 
lives ? 

Such a feeling, if it exists in any mind, it is my wish to 
meet, and if possible to remove. When a man like him 
whose spirit has now gone to his reward, is taken from the 
world, th^^ loss is great. When such a life is sacrificed in 
the advancement of whatever undertaking, it is a great ex- 



6 

penditure. But is it true that life is never to be hazarded ? 
Is it true that valuable lives are never to be sacrificed? Must 
every undertaking, however vast or noble, be given over, as 
soon as it is found that lives must be lost for the attainment 
of the object ? Will you say that because Andrus, and Ses- 
sions, and Holton and Ashmun have given up their lives for 
Africa, therefore the enterprise in which such men have 
died must be abandoned, and Africa must be left to be the 
abode of ignorance, and cruelty, and misery, till the world 
shall end ? Will you say that because Heber and Middleton, 
because our own Hall and Newel have perished from their 
labors in the midst of life, beneath the sultry sky of India; — 
will you say that because Martyn's career was brief as it was 
bright, and because our Parsons and Fiske lay down in their 
prime to sleep among the sepulchres of the prophets, and 
because every missionary who goes into a heathen land goes to 
peril, and too probably, to an early grave; — will you argue that 
therefore the thick gloom of paganism must rest upon the 
world forever, without another effort to let in the blessed 
light of heaven ? Do you tell us. It is wrong that lives so val- 
uable should be thus thrown away ? Do you ask us. To what 
purpose is this waste ? 

Look now at this principle of yours. It is just the princi- 
ple that every cause in which valuable lives are lost must 
be abandoned. And what a principle is this. How many 
valuable lives have been lost in the cause of liberty ? How 
many and how venerated are tiie names of patriots who 
have hazarded their lives and lost them for the deliver- 
ance of their country ? Have these lives been squandered ? 
How often has a barrier of hving men turned back from 
some threatened land the terrors of invasion. Thousands 
perished in the conflict, all valuable to their country ; and 
each in his own circle the object of intense interest, as a 
husband, or a father, or u brother, or a son. Pkicc yourself 
on some such battle-field of freedom ; think for ivhat the 



blood of patriots was there poured forth hke water ; thmk 
of ten thousand homes preserved from violation and from 
flames ; think of the peace and industry, the intelligence and 
happiness which follow in the train of freedom ; and will 
you — with the results as well as the expense before you — 
can you say that all those lives were wasted ? Who can con- 
tradict that universal feeling of mankind which leads them to 
embalm the memory of such a conflict ; and which makes 
the names of fallen patriots a watch-word and a treasure for 
their country ? Who will say that our fathers of the revolu- 
tion, when Warren had fallen on the heights of Charlestown, 
and Montgomery had perished at Quebec, ought to have 
folded their arms, and abandoned their cause, and submit- 
ted to the claims they had begun to resist, because valuable 
lives were sacrificed ? Yet this you must say, if you will be 
consistent. 

How many valuable lives were sacrificed in the enterprise 
of planting the colonies which have grown up into this great 
republic ? Ought the Puritans to have given over their un- 
dertaking in despair as soon as it was seen that fives must 
be lost in colonizing the inhospitable wilderness ? Recal to 
your memory that first, long, perilous winter. Place yourself 
in thought on the rock of Plymouth. Look round on the 
snow-clad hills, and see the one hundred wretched exiles 
planting themselves there without a shelter from the storms 
and cold, and with nothing to sustain them but their hope in 
God ; see them perishing by famine and exposure and dis- 
ease ; and then, when half their number are in their graves, 
and those very graves are carefully hidden that they may 
hide their growing weakness from the enemies that roam the 
wilderness around them — then ask them. To what purpose 
is this waste ? Tell them, You are squandering your valua- 
ble lives, your enterprise is full of peril, and must be aban- 
doned ; for will you think of building here the altars of your 
faith, at such expense as this ? Tell them, Back, go back to 



8 

England ; be submissive to her hierarchy and her king ; bow 
down like Issachar between your burthens ; bear as meekly 
as you can the yoke from which you have so rashly and so 
vainly fled ; and leave this wilderness to be a wilderness 
forever. This should be your counsel in such an emergency, 
if you will be consistent. But, blessed be God, they took 
not counsel of such counsellors as you. While their number 
was dwindling away so rapidly, and each expected to be 
buried in some secret grave to-morrow, they never thought 
of asking the desponding question. To what purpose 1 Suf- 
ferings they could endure ; death they could bear ; but the 
end they were pursuing they could not relinquish. They 
valued their enterprise too highly to count their own lives 
dear in the comparison. Pursuing such an end, they held 
all things else in little estimation, and encountered death as 
being far, far better than despair. Hundreds on hundreds 
died by disease and privation and war, in the attempt to col- 
onize New-England. Ask you, To what purpose was this 
waste? Say you that this was vv^rong? — that those lives 
were thrown away ? Look over our green hills and quiet 
vales ; mark that rich aspect of peace and happiness and 
virtue that overspreads the land ; listen to the sounds of in- 
dustry and commerce : above all, hark to the music of our 
sabbath bells as their thousand notes go up minghng in the 
air of heaven ; and say, if you can, that those lives were 
thrown aw^ay, and that because the enterprise was full of 
peril and of death, it should have been abandoned. 

In other words, it is a mistake to suppose that there are 
not some objects for the attainment of w hich men may sac- 
rifice their lives, and at the same time deserve on that very 
account our highest veneration. He whose mind fastens 
only on the expense, may think that the expense is wasted ; 
and till his mind can understand, and his heart appreciate, 
the end for which the expenditure is made ; he will deem 
the sacrifice extravagant. But so thought not Paul and the 



9 

goodly company of the Apostles, when, in obedience to the 
" heavenly vision," they gave themselves to toils and sufter- 
ings, and counted n(jt their own lives dear unto themselves, 
and died to propagate the gospel of their Lord. So thought 
not the noble army of the martyrs, whose blood has been 
shed, 

" In confirmation of the noblest claim, 
Our claim to feed upon immortal truth. 
To walk with God, to be divinely free. 
To soar, and to anticipate the skies." 

So thought not he who is our perfect example as well as 
our Redeemer, — he who said, Whosoever will save his life 
shall lose it, and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall 
find it, — he who died on Calvary, suspended between the 
earth and heavens a spectacle of suffering and death to men 
and angels. He might have held back from the suffering of 
death ; but he had seen the ruin of a world, and he most 
freely died for its deliverance. His life was sacrificed — and to 
what purpose ! The anthems of eternity are telling to what 
purpose. On that theme the harps of angels are laboring. 
And that theme — the purpose for which the Son of God was 
made a sacrifice — will forever swell in grandeur till the ages 
of eternity are numbered. 

Our departed friend has died a victim to his labors and 
sufferings in the cause of benevolence. Several years ago, 
after having watched for some time with an active and grow- 
ing interest, the progress of the measures which had been 
commenced to relieve this nation from the pressure of a 
deadly evil, and to bestow on Africa the blessedness of free- 
dom and religion, he gave himself to the work in which he 
has now died. He reached the field of his labors, at a time* 

* August, 1822. 



10 

when the Colonists had just been removed from the unfortu- 
nate location to which treachery had at first conducted them. 
anH were taking possession of the newly purchased territory 
of Liberia. He found the few colonists alone, not a single 
white man there, the only surviving Agent having just before 
embarked in ill health for the United States. He found them 
almost without houses to protect themselves from the rains 
of their inclement season, which was then at its height, much 
less able to afford shelter for the new emigrants who had 
accompanied him. He found the establishment just ready 
to sink in disorder and dismay. The settlers were almost 
defenceless. The native princes, who had sold them the 
territory with the treacherous intention that they should not 
settle there, were threatening to destroy them, and were 
forming combinations for that purpose. In such an emer- 
gency it was, that he came to a work entirely new. He had 
been educated for the work of preaching the gospel. He 
had been a teacher in a literary institution. He was still a 
young man. And now he had come to place himself at the 
head of an unorganized, feeble, heterogeneous community. 
He was to act the Legislator ; — he was to form and put in 
operation, a system of government ; he was to sway the 
minds of this unformed mass of human beings, and mould 
them into unity ; he was to make them freemen, and habit- 
uate them to the business of governing themselves. At the 
same time he must act the Soldier ; — he must rouse in his 
little flock of once degraded men, the spirit of manhood and 
the enthusiasm of self-defence, and he must head them in 
the conflict. He nmst act the Engineer ; — he must lay out 
the fortifications of his little city, and superintend their hasty 
construction ; he must take care that the very dwellings — 
even the temporary huts and shelters of the people — are 
constructed with reference to security from the enemy, and 
facility of defence in an assault. All this must be commen- 
ced at once, for delay was ruin. And just as all this was 



11 

commencing, the fever which attacks almost every man on 
his first arrival from a temperate to a tropical climate, at- 
tacked him and the fifty emigrants who had come with him, 
with uncommon violence. They were all sick — sick without 
a physician — sick without any proper shelter from the rains 
— sick almost without medicines. His own wife, among 
others, was soon carried to the grave. But for him, and for 
all, there was no time to relax their efforts. Even in sick- 
ness and distress, there could be no respite. Their works 
must go on ; for, daily and nightly, they were expecting that 
an army of savages would be upon them. While prostrated 
by disease, in the lucid intervals between the jeturnr; of deli- 
rium, our friend was compelled to rise from his sick bed, to 
inspect the condition and progress of these operations, to re- 
ceive reports, to give out orders, to reanimate the weary and 
desponding, and to superintend all the aflairs of this dismay- 
ed and distressed community. All this he did ; and when 
at last the fever had left him in extreme debility, and he was 
just beginning to recover strength, the danger which they 
had been so long apprehending, came. About three months 
after his arrival, when their defences had been only partially 
completed, and when their entire effective force was thirty- 
five men and boys, they were attacked at the dawn of day 
by a force of at least eight hundred armed savages. They 
were taken by surprise, and the enemy were almost in the 
midst of them before the alarm was given. By an effort of 
desperate valor, directed by the extraordinary self possession 
and energy of our departed friend, the enemy were driven 
off, and the settlement on which were suspended so many 
hopes of humanity and religion was delivered. A few days 
afterwards, while the wounded were still helpless, and the 
well were exhausted with constant fatigue and watching and 
alarm, the enemy returned with redoubled numbers and re- 
doubled rage for their destruction : and again, by a valor and 



12 

energy which would do honor to the history of any man or 
any people, they ueie repulsed, and utterly defeated.* 

I have thus described the comniencement of his labors 
and sufferings in Africa, because there is no other way in 
which I could so well describe his character : inasmuch as it 
is only by what a man has done, that we can ever distinctly 
understand what he has been. And what sort of character 
it was that could act thus in circumstances such as these, it 
is not difficult to divine. Let me say then, that the same en- 
ergy, the same self-possession and promptitude, the same 
exhaustless diligence, the same vigor and quickness of intel- 
lectual power, the same courage amid difficulties and dan- 
gers, have been exhibited in all his labors there. The estab- 
lishment which he found on the brink of extinction, he left in 
prosperity and peace. The little colony which he found 
defenceless, weak and trembling with dismay, he left so 
strengthened, as to be safe against any probable attack by 
land or sea. The peo{)le whom he began to rule when they 
were few, unorganized, anH disunited, he has successful- 
ly trained to habits of discipline, and taught to enjoy the 
blessings of rational liberty and real independence. And 
how well he has governed that people, how happy he has 
made them, how he has drawn their affi?ctions round him, 
their grief at his departure can testify. One of their own 
number, in whose hands our friend, on leaving the colony, 
placed the administration of affiiirs, thus speaks of the occa- 
sion of his embarkation for his native country. "The Colo- 
nial Agent, went on board the brig Doris, March 26, 1828, 
escorted by three companies of the military, and when ta- 
kinsr leave he delivered a short address whicli was trulv af- 
fecting. Never, I suppose were greater tokens of respect 
shown by any community on taking leave of their head. At 
least two thirds of the inhabitants of Monrovia, men, women 



See Appendix, Note A. 



13 

and children, were out on this occasion ; and nearly all part- 
ed from him with tears. In my opinion, the hope of his re- 
turn m a few months, alone enabled them to give him up. 
He is indeed dear to this people, and it will be a joyful day 
when we are permitted again to see him." Ah that day ! 
What grief will be theirs, when they learn that they shall 
see his face no more. 

Nor were this man's moral and social traits of character, 
inferior to his intellectual qualities. Distinguished as he 
was, for power and comprehensiveness of intellect, for rapid- 
ity of conception, for versatility of genius, for skill in the 
management of men : and for boldness and energy of ac- 
tion, he was no less marked by those traits of character, 
which command our atiection or secure our confidence. A 
mildness, and suavity, and aflbctionateness of disposition, 
and a disinterestedness which felt for all as for himself, was 
blended with that decision and energy, which we have al- 
ready noticed. A patience under pain and trouble, a meek 
fortitude of spirit, which, instead of sinking under distress, or 
disappointment, or infirmity, is humbled indeed, but is hum- 
bled only to rise more majestic — was exemplified in many 
striking incidents of his history. A dignity of person and 
manner which arrested the attention of strangers, and which 
fitted him for command, was not in him inconsistent with a 
deep and unaffected humility, to which those who saw him 
on his death-bed, bear ample testimony. And the basis, the 
grace, and ornament of all these virtues, was his piety — a prin- 
ciple of love and confidence towards God, springing from 
the knowledge of his Son as Lord and Saviour. It was this 
which enabled him to bear with patience every burthen ; to 
resist the struggles of a corrupted nature ; to give himself to 
labor and to suffering, with the self-denial of a martyr; and 
at last to die, with a calm, thoughtful, untrembling confi- 
dence, which none but the christian can experience.* 

" See Appendix, Note B. 



14 

Such was he whose life has been spent, and prematurely 
exhausted in his zeal for Africa. Do you ask, to what pur- 
pose lias he died? I would that we could stand together on 
the promontory of Montserado, and see what has been ac- 
complished by those toils and exposures, which have cost this 
man his life. Hard by, we might see the island, where, a 
few years since, there was a market for the slave trade. To 
that place crowds of captives were brought every year, and 
there they were sold like beasts of burthen. From that place 
they were consigned to the unspeakable cruelties of thronged 
and pestilential slave-ships ; and those whom death released 
not in their passage across the Atlantic, went into perpetual 
slavery. At that time, this cape was literally consecrated 
to the devil ; and here the miserable natives, in the gloom 
of the dark forest, offered worship to the evil Spirit. All 
this was only a few years ago. And what see you now ? 
The forest that had crowned the lofty cape for centuries, 
has been cleared away ; and here are the dwellings of a 
civilized and intelligent people. Here are twelve hundred or- 
derly, industrious and prosperous freemen ; who were once 
slaves, or in a state of degradation hardly preferable to bon- 
dage. Here are schools, and courts of justice, and lo! the 
spire which marks the temple dedicated to our God and 
Saviour — strange land-mark to the mariner that traverses 
the seas of Africa. Here, for a hundred miles along the 
coast, no slave-trader dares to spread his canvass ; for the 
flag that waves over that fortress, and the guns that threaten 
from its battlements, tell him that this land is sacred to hu- 
manity and freedom. Is all this nothing? Is it nothing to 
have laid on a barbarous continent, the foundation of a free 
and christian empire? This is the work in which our friend 
has died. 

But this is not all. I look forward a few years, and I see 
these results swelling to an importance which may seem 
incredible to cold and narrow minds. I see those few 



15 

and scattered settlements, extending along the coast and 
spreading through the inland. I see thousands of the op- 
pressed and wretched, fleeing from lands where at the best 
they can have nothing but the name and forms of freedom, 
to this new republic, and finding there a refuge from their 
degradation. I see the accursed slave trade, which for so 
many ages past, has poured desolation along twelve hun- 
dred miles of the African coast, utterly suppressed, and re- 
membered only as an illustration of what human wickedness 
can be. I see the ancient wilderness, like our own wide 
forests of the west, vanishing before the march of civilized 
and Christian man. I see towns and cities rising in peace 
and beauty, as they rise along our Atlantic shore and on the 
borders of our rivers. I see fair villages, and quiet cottages^ 
and rich plantations, spreading out where now in the unbro- 
ken wilderness, the lion couches for his prey. I see the pagan 
tribes, catching the light of civilization, and learning from 
the lips of christian teachers, to exchange the bondage of 
their superstitions, for the blessed freedom of the gospel 
I see churches, schools and all the institutions of religion 
and science, adorning Africa as they adorn the country 
of the pilgrims. 1 hear from the mountains, and the val- 
lies, and along all the yet undiscovered streams of that vast 
continent, the voice of christian worship and the songs of 
christian praise. In all those scenes of beauty or of glad- 
ness, I see, and in all those accents of thanksgiving, I hear^ 
to what purpose this servant of God poured out his noble 
soul in his labors of love. 

Who asks us, To what purpose is this waste ? To what 
purpose ! Thousands and thousands of the exiled sons of 
Africa, going back from lands of slavery, to enjoy true free- 
dom in the rich and lovely land which God has given them, 
shall one day answer in their shouts of joy. To what pur- 
pose ! Africa, delivered from her miseries, her chains thrown- 
off, her spirit emancipated from the power of darkness, ri- 



IG 

sing up in strength and beauty like a new-born angel from 
the night of chaos, and stretching out her hands to God in 
praise, shall one day answer, to what purpose this martyr of 
benevolence has lived and died. 

Is there not then blessed consolation blended with the af- 
fliction of his death ? What though he has died in the midst 
of life ? What though he has died away from the endear- 
ments of home, away from the parting embraces of parents, 
and kindred, and early friends? Is not such a death better than 
any inferior life? What parent would exchange the memo- 
ry of such a departed son, for the embrace of any living one ? 
Who would not rather that his brother or his friend had liv- 
ed such a life, and died so nobly for so noble ends, than that 
he were still living, and living for no such exalted purpose ? 
Is not that life longest which best answers life's great end ? 
Is that life short which has accomplished great results? 

" Can death come 
To him untimely who is fit to die ?" 

We may indeed weep when such a mind departs from the 
world which its labors have blessed. We may weep when 
such hopes of bleeding humanity are extinguished. But 
shall not triumph mingle with our tears ? Shall not emotions 
of praise temper and alleviate our sorrow ? He is not dead, 
but sleepeth. More; he is not dead to usefulness. His 
works still live. The light which he has kindled shall cheer 
nations yet unborn. His memory shall never die. Years 
and ages hence, when the African mother shall be able to 
sit with her children, under the shade of their native cocoa^ 
without trembling in fear of the manstealer and murderer, 
she will speak his name with words of thankfulness to God ; 
and as she tells them the story of his devoted labors, and his 
early death, she will teach them to trace back their happi- 
ness, their advancing intelligence, their very safety, to the 



17 

remote agency, under God, of the man afound whose biei., 
it is tiow our lot — our privilege let us say, to mingle our tears. 
His example shall speak. There have been men whose 
names are way-marks ; whose examples, through successive 
ages, stir the spirits of their fellow men with noble emula- 
tion. What has been done fur God, and for the souls of 
men, and for the cause of wretched human nature by the 
luster which gathers around the name of David Brainerd. 
How many lofty spirits has the simple history of his toils and 
sorrows kindled and roused to kindred enterprise. Other 
names there are, which beam from age to age with the same 
glory. Howard, Clarkson, Swartz, Mills, — what mean- 
ing is there in such names as these. Our departed friend 
will add another to that brilliant catalogue. He takes his 
place 

" Amid th' august and never dying light 

Of constellated spirits who have gained 

A name in heaven by power of heavenly deeds." 

Let us praise God for the light of his example, which 
shall never be extinguished, and which, as it beams on us, 
shall also beam on our children, and our children's children, 
moving them to deeds of godlike benevolence. 

" Praise ! for yet one more name with power endowed. 

To cheer and guide us, onward as we press; 
Yet one more image, on the heart bestowed. 

To dwell there, beautiful in holiness." 

Who will follow this example ? Who is ambitious to win 
the crown which apostles and saints have worn in triumph ? 
Who would win the crown of martyrdom ? Do I speak to 
none among the young, who is willing to hazard his life, and 
to give it up, if need be, for God, and for the cause of dying 
man ? Do I speak to none among such as are now looking 
forward to inquire what course of life, and what sphere of 
labor they shall choose, into whose mind the light of this 

3 



18 

example will enter, to waken a like radiance ? Who would 
live and die in the quiet, the ignoble quiet, of ease and fire- 
side safety, when he might write his name among the stars^ 
and having fought the good fight, be found at last with the 
saints and the martyrs of Jesus, who have come out of great 
tril)ulation. Who does not feel it to be true in a higher 
and far purer sense than that in which it was originally 
spoken, 

" One glorious hour of crowded life 
Is worth an age without a name." 

But there is another, a plainer application of the example 
which this servant of God has left us ; an application which 
every one of us may make for himself, and which I hope not 
one of us, softened as we all are by the touching, melting 
circumstances of this occasion, will seek to evade. Was it 
right for this man to wear out his life in the cause of benev- 
olence ; and is it right for me, or you, to do nothing in this 
cause ? Do you approve, do you applaud his self-denying 
efforts, his patience unto death in the work of giving to the 
oppressed and wretched children of Africa, the blessings of 
freedom and intelligence, and the better blessings of the 
gospel ; and can you justify yourself in treating with neglect 
that very enterprise in which he has thus toiled and died? 
Have you treated that enterprise with neglect? You have 
felt, perhaps, an interest in it ; you have sympathized, per- 
haps, with the trials and successes of the mighty undertaking. 
And IS this all ? What contributions of yours have gone to 
forward this great work ? What have you ever done, while 
this man was yet alive and toiling at his post of danger, to 
cheer him under his discouragements, or to advance the 
end for which he was thus sacrificing all that other men 
deem valuable ? Have you done all that you might have 
done? Shall 1 ask, have you done nothing ? Can you now 
say that you will do nothitig in future ? Can you suppress the 
determination that henceforth you will do much for Africa ; 



19 

and thus will show that the mysterious providence which 
broui^ht this man to die among strangers, and to be buried 
far from all the objects of his earthly love, was not without 
an end ? 

There is always something in death, and the appendages 
of death, which arrests attention and awakens serious thought. 
It throws over the world, and over all our pursuits, a light 
which judgment, as well as feeling, tells us, is the light of 
truth. The death of a scoffer or a worldling, fills the mind 
with terror. To see him hastening to the final moment, to 
see him dying, to see him dead, then to stand by his coffin 
and his grave, has, ere now, made hard hearts to quiver with 
the apprehension of what, in spite of man's forgetfulness or 
man's contempt, must lie beyond the boundary of time. 
Who can doubt that such impressions are true ; or that to 
lose sight of them is folly ? The death of a humble christian, 
makes us feel the value of that faith, which throws the bright- 
ness of eternity over the shadows of time, and binds the affec- 
tions of the soul to heaven. Who doubts that it is wise to act 
on such impressions? And is there any thing delusive in the 
impressions of this occasion ? There is no delusion about 
death. It is death which scatters all delusion. Ask your 
own hearts now, what it is for which you ought to live ; what 
recollections you will need to cheer your spirit in the hour 
of its departure. In times when the delusions of this world 
are brightest, and most fascinating, your bewildered heart 
may answer falsely ; but when it speaks the words of sober- 
ness, the words of serious solemn thought, believe it, for 
those are the words of truth. What, then, at such a mo- 
ment as the present, in view of the example of this man, are 
your impressions of the end for which you ought to live ? 
Standing by the death-bed, or the coffin, or the grave, of 
one whose life has been thus devoted to the cause of God, 
and to the liberty and happiness of man, who does not foel 
the meanness, the guilt, of living in this world for narrow, 



20 

selfish purposes ? Look now at the example of this departed 
benefactor of iiis country and the world ; trace in thought 
his brief career of pain and conflict, opening niio early giory ; 
and if you have not given your whole heart to God ; if you 
are loving the world, and the things that are in the world ; if 
you are living to yourself; be ashamed : for O ! how base a 
thing is it in man to prostitute to selfish ends, the faculties 
which God has given him that he may share the purest hap- 
piness, and reach the most exalted destiny. Who will be 
contented then to live for nothmg? Who will hold back from 
giving up his all to advance the praise of God, and the well- 
being of the world? 

" Rouse to some work of high and holy love. 
And thou an angel's happiness shalt know, — 
Shalt bless the earth while in the world above ; 
The good begun by thee shall onward flow 
In many a branching stream, and wider grow ; 
The seed that in these few and fleeting hours. 
Thy hands unsparing and unwearied sow, 
Shall deck thy grave, with amaranthine flowers, 
And yield thee fruits (Jivjue in heaven's iranjortnl bowers." 



ADDRESS 

DELIVERED AT THE GRAVE, BY R. R. GURLEY, 

SECRETARY OF THE AMERICAIV COLONIZATlOJf SOCIETY. 



It seems proper, that, in the name of the American Coloni- 
zation Society, I should, on this occasion, express sincere 
and heartfelt thanks to those present, for the many kind at- 
tentions, and the very tender sympathy, which was shown to 
our excellent friend, (and of which no one was more sensi- 
ble than he,) during the distressing, but alas ! too brief pe- 
riod, since his arrival. Let me assure you, christian friends, 
that this kindness, and this sympathy, will not be forgotten ; 
that while you enjoy the sweet recollections of having sooth- 
ed the last hours of an invaluable man, ten thousand hearts 
will bless you, and the name of your beautiful city be pro- 
nounced, even on a distant continent, with the feelings and 
in the tones of affection. Believe me, the time will come, 
when Africa shall send forth her pilgrims, to shed their tears, 
and lay their offerings upon this grave of the Martyr to her 
Liberties. 

We have come to the burial of no ordinary man. I cannot 
now, if 1 could at any time, pronounce his Eulogy, and shall 
only attempt, in the few words I shall say of him, to express, 
simply and briefly, the conclusions of my own understand- 
ing, resulting from a long and intimate acquaintance with 
his character. He possessed a commanding and compre- 
hensive intellect, a courage which Rome would have honor- 
ed, a disinterestedness which would have been venerated, 
even in apostolic days, and a zeal which consumed him by 
giving light. It is now more than six years, since he be- 



22 

came, voluntarily, an exile from his friends and his country, 
that he might plant the seeds of civihzation, and christian 
truth, in the moral desert of Africa. He arrived at a mo- 
ment when the hopes of our infant colony were just expir- 
ing, and rekindled them. He did this while sick, bereav- 
ed and afflicted. He did it, while no light shone upon 
his way but from the throne of God, He did it, while 
the waves of misfortune beat against him, with a force 
which it would seem must have overwhelmed any other 
mind than his own. But his soul was self-balanced. "He 
braced his corslet o'er his heart's deep wounds ;" nor could 
danger or sutiering disturb the serenity, or break the forti- 
tude of his spirit. He " shook despondence from his soul," 
and rose from the pressure of calamity to the work of his 
God. It was at this crisis, that on my way to Africa, I 
found him at the Cape de Verds, (to which Islands he had 
resorted a short season for the benefit of his health,) and 
accompanied him thence to our Colony, and enjoyed the 
high privilege of sharing with him, the eflbrt to give system 
and order, to the Government of Liberia, At midnight on 
Cape Montserado, while we alone of the little community 
awoke, with the majestic ocean breaking at our feet, and 
heaven shining in beauty and in brightness over us, and 
the wide spread forest veiled beneath our eye in a gentler 
and a softer light, it was mine to confer with our now bles- 
sed friend, to observe the workings of his quick and power- 
ful mind, while he sought to secure interests, compared with 
which, he deemed life itself as worthless. The impression 
then made upon my memory and my heart by his intellect- 
ual energy and moral worth can never be effaced. The 
expectations which were then excited have been more than 
realized. He has lived to establish the African Colony upon 
sure foundations. Having defended it with a courage and 
ability not exceeded, perhaps, in the military exploits of this 
or any other age, he has shaped and polished its rude mate- 



23 

rials, and given to tliem order, strength, and beauty. He 
has breathed into the community over which he presided a 
spirit of activity, industry and enterprise ; instructed them in 
their social duties, their poUlical rights, their christian obU- 
gations ; checked their irregularities by his decision ; and by 
his mtegrity and kmdness won their hearts. But his influ- 
ence has extended far beyond the limits of the Colony. He 
has opened to the poor pagans the ever blessed Gospel, and 
read to them of justice, mercy, and peace. He has exhibit- 
ed to them Christianity, not as a dead letter, but as a practi- 
cal principle ; as written in the life ; as shining forth in sincer- 
ity, truth, meekness, purity, charily, and all the virtues which 
add dignity or worth to character. And the natives, while 
they have been awed by the terror of his name, have wept 
in the presence of his goodness. 

Africa then must mourn, but not in solitary grief. Thou- 
sands throughout this union, regard the cause for which our 
friend has died, as one of the holiest and the best ; and will 
lament that a main pillar of its strength is fallen. But God 
reigns, and to his wisdom we bow. This is not the less 
venerable, because not understood. 

Do you inquire what principle regulated and directed the 
great intellectual powers of our friend, to effect purposes so 
important as must be attributed to his short life ? It was pie- 
ty. To him may be applied the language, which he selected 
himself, to illustrate the character of his early predecessor 
in the agency. " His zeal was ardent, his devotion entire, 
his hopes elevated to sublimity, and his faith invincible. 
The love and fear of God, tempered in just proportions, ran 
through the whole texture of his religious character." 
There was moral sublimity in his death. But a few hours 
before his departure, while I sustained him as he sat up, and 
laid my hand upon his pallid brow, the perspiration flowing 
from it, and every feature expressing death, he offered up 
his last supplication in terms as solemn and affecting as ever 



24 

fell from mortal lips. A few words, uttered with great dis- 
tinctness, 1 have attempted to preserve. 

Prayer. — "O my Heavenly Father, look mercifully upon 
thy afflicted servant, and do not lay upon him that which 
through weakness he is unable to bear, but let thy grace be 
sufficient for him. May he desire communion with thee 
above all other blessings. Bless my friend here present ; 
keep him in thy service, and graciously reward him for all 
his kindness. O bless all those who have shown a tender 
concern for me in this place, and all my relatives and friends, 
and let them never come into condemnation. O bless the 
colony and that poor people among whom I have laboured. 
Grant to me, O merciful Father, saving faith, sanctifying 
faith, and glorify thy great name in my eternal salvation. 
Grant these blessings, O God of Grace, for the Redeemer's 
sake, who suffered for us, and to thee shall praise be given, 
through all eternity, through all eternity. Amen ! Amen !" 

And shall we leave this spot without instruction ? From 
this grave comes forth an appeal to us in behalf of Afri- 
ca. Yes, brother beloved, I trust in God, that from the very 
dust in which thou art reposing, will emanate an influence 
which shall neither be arrested or resisted until bleeding, dy- 
ing Ethiopia shall see the light of redemption, and stretch 
out her hand to God. Who that has the feelings of a chris- 
tian, or even of a man, would not cherish that light which so 
many have gladly died to kindle ; which shines over Afri- 
ca's sorrows like mercy over a soul in despair ; which, unless 
criminally neglected, must soon spread like the morning on 
the mountains of Kong, and brighten the Niger's mysterious 
waves ? Hearts steeled to every sentiment of kindness shall 
be softened by its influence ; where the King of Dahomey en- 
ters his palace on a pavement of human sculls, shall stand a 
Chrisiian Temple ; and the words of Death! Death! Death' 



25 

which arouse the population of Ashantee, to witness the eftu- 
sion ot human blood, shall be succeeded by humble and holy 
orisons and hymns of praise. Over this beloved dust, then let 
us pledge ourselves to do something for Africa. Sixty millions 
for whom Christ died, our brethren by indissoluble ties, are 
perishing ; can we not, will we not, aid their redemption. It is 
by imitating the example of the deceased, that we shall pay 
the best tribute to his memory. To this example, thousands 
will look as to his imperishable memorial. Let us hope that 
its influence will excite new zeal in the African cause through- 
out this nation; that as one man we shall apply our strength 
to remove the heaviest of our national calamities, and to 
bless Africa with freedom and the Gospel. 

Such a hope, departed brother, we will cherish ! 

" Thou hast left behind, 
Powers that will work for thee ! air, earth, and skies ; 

There is not a breathing; of the common wind 
That will forget thee ! thou has great allies ! 
Thy friends are exultations, agonies, 

\nd love, and man's unconquerable mind." 



APPENDIX. 



The history of the defence of the settlement on Cape Montsera* 
do, in November, 1822, affords so striking an illustration of the in- 
tellectual power, the promptitude, the energy, and the heroic brave- 
ry by which Mr. Ashmun was distinguished, that I doubt not I shall 
gratify my readers by extracting from his own " Memoir of the 
American Colonists," a more minute statement than could be pre- 
sented in the discourse. 

«' The plan of defence adopted was to station five heavy guns, at 
the different angles of a triangle which should circumscribe the- 
whole settlement — each of the angles resting on a point of ground 
sufficiently commanding to enfilade two sides of the triangle, and 
sweep a considerable extent of ground beyond the lines. The guns 
at these stations were to be covered by musket proof triangular 
stockades, of which any two should be sufficient to contain all the 
settlers in their wings. The brass piece and two swivels mounted 
on traveling carriages, were stationed in the center, ready to sup- 
port the post which might be exposed to the heaviest attack. Af- 
ter completing these detached works, it was in the intention of the 
Agent, had tlie enemy allowed the time, to join all together by a 
paling to be carried quite around the settlement ; — and in the event 
of a yet longer respite, to carry on, as rapidly as possible, under 
the protection of the nearest fortified point, the construction of the 
Martello tower ; which, as soon as completed, would nearly super- 
sede all the other works ; and by presenting an impregnable bar- 
rier to the success of any native force, probably become the instru- 
ment of a general and permanent pacification. Connected with 
these measures of safety, was the extension, to the utmost, of the 
cleared space about the settlement, still leaving the trees and brush- 
wood, after being separated from their trunks, to spread the ground 



28 

Avith a tangled Jicdge, through wliich nothing should be able to make 
its way, except the shot from the batteries. 

" This plan Avas fully communicated to the most intelligent of the 
people ; which, in the event of the disability or death of the Agent, 
they might, it was hoped, so far carry into effect as to ensure the 
preservation of the settlement. 

" It was an occasion of grateful acknowledgment to that Divine 
Power under whose heavy hand the Agent was now obliged to how, 
that he had been spared to settle these arrangements, and see them 
in a train of accomplishment, previous to his being laid entirely 
aside. It was also a source of melancholy satisfaction that he was 
permitted to watch the fatal progress of disease in an afiectionate 
wife until the last ray of intellectual light was extinguished by its 
force, two days before her death. Her life had been one of un- 
common devotion and self-denial, inspired by a vigorous and prac- 
tical faith in the Divine Saviour of the world ; and her end, accord- 
ing to his promise, was ineftablc peace. She expired on Sunday 
the 15th of September." 

" From this date until the first week in November, the Agent con- 
tinued in an extremely low and dangerous state ; so entirely debili- 
tated in body and mind, as to be nearly incapable of motion, and in- 
sensible to every thing except the consciousness of suffering." 

"On the 7th of November, intelhgence was received at the Cape 
that the last measures had been taken preparatory to an assault on 
the settlement, which was ordered within four days. The plan of 
attack being left to the head warriors, whose trade it is to concert 
and conduct it, was not to be learnt. 

" The Agent was able, with assistance, to inspect the works, and 
review the little force the same evening. He stated to the people 
the purport of the intelligence just received ; that ' war was now 
inevitable; and the preservation of their property, their settlement, 
their families, and their lives, depended under God, wholly upon 
their own firmness and good conduct ; that a most important point 
in the defence of the place, was to secure a perfect unifornrity of ac- 
tion, which should assure to every post and individual the fir-m sup- 
port of every other. To this end, they must as punctiliously obey 
their officers as if their whole duty were centered, as it pi-obably 



29 

was, in that one point ; and every man as faithfully exert himself, aa 
if the whole defence depended on his single efforts. A coward, it 
was hoped, did not disgrace their ranks ; and as the cause was em- 
phatically that of God and their country, they might confidently ex- 
pect his blessing and success to attend the faithful discharge of their 
duty.' — Every thing was then disposed in order of action, and the 
men marched to their posts. They lay on their arms, with match- 
es lighted, through the night. 

On the 8th, the Agent, by an effort which entirely exhausted his 
strength, proceeded to examine the obstruction thrown in the way 
of the avenues to the settlement ; and perceived to his extreme mor- 
tification, that the west quarter was still capable of being approach- 
ed by a narrow path-way, without difficulty ; and that the utmost 
exertions of the workmen had accomplished only the mounting of 
the revolving nine pounder at the post ; by which the path was en- 
filaded ; but that the platform was still left entirely exposed. The 
eastern quarter was about equally open to the approach of the en- 
emy, but the station was protected by a stockade, and a steep ledge 
of rocks made the access difficult. 

" Picket guards of four men each were detailed, to be posted 100 
yards in advance of each of the stations, through the night. No 
man was allowed to sleep before the following day, at sun-rise." 

" Sunday, November 10th. The morning was devoted, as usual 
to the refreshment of the settlers, none of whom had slept for the 
24 hours preceding. At 1 P. M. all were remanded to their fa- 
tigue and other duties, till sun-set ; when the order appointed for 
the preceding night was resumed. The women and children at- 
tended divine service. 

" Intelligence had reached the agent early in the day, that the 
hostile forces had made a movement, and were crossing the Mont- 
serado river a few miles above the settlement ; but the patrols made 
no discovery through the day. — At sun-set, however, the enemy 
again put themselves in motion, and at an early hour of the night, 
had assembled, as was afterwards learnt, to the number of six to 
nine hundred men, on the peninsula, where, at the distance of less 
than half a mile to the westward of the setllement, they encamped 
till near morning." 



30 

" The most wakeful vigilance on the part of the settlers, was kept 
up through the night. — But with a fatality which was quite of a 
piece, with all the hindrances that had impeded the progress of the 
defences on the western quarter, the picket-guard, in advance of 
that post, ventured on a violation of their orders, by leaving their 
station, at the first dawn of day ; at which it was their duty to re- 
main till sun-rise. The native force was already in motion, and 
followed directly in the rear of the picket-guard. The latter had 
just rejoined their gun, about which ten men were now assembled ; 
when the enemy suddenly presenting a front of ten yards in width, 
at sixty distant, delivered their fire, and rushed forward with their 
spears to seize the post. Several men were killed and disabled by 
the first fire, and the remainder driven from their gun without dis- 
charging it. Then, retiring upon the center, they threw the reserve 
there stationed, into momentary confusion ; and had the enemy at 
this instant, pressed their advantage, it is hardly conceivable that 
they should have failed of entire success. Their avidity for plunder 
was their defeat. Four houses in that outskirt of the settlement, 
had fiiUen into their hands. Every man on whose savage rapacity 
so resistless a temptation happened to operate, rushed impetuously 
upon the pillage thus thrown in his way. The movement of the 
main body was disordered and impeded ; and an opportunity affor- 
ded the Agent, assisted principally by the Rev. Lot Gary, to rally 
the broken force of the settlers. The two central guns, with a part 
of their own men, and several who had been driven from the wes- 
tern station, were, with a little exertion, brought back into action, 
and formed in the line of two slight buildings, thirty yards in ad- 
vance of the enemy. 

<' The second discharge of a brass field-piece, double-shotted 
with ball and grape, brought the whole body of the enemy to a stand. 
That gun was well served, and appeared to do great execution." 

"The eastern and southern posts, were, from their situation, pre- 
cluded from rendering any active assistance on the occasion ; but 
the officers and men attached to them, deserve the highest praise, 
of doing their duty by maintaining their stations, and thus protecting 
the flank and rear of the few whose lot it was to be brought to action. 



31 

■" A few musketeers with E. Johnson at their head, by passmg 
round upon the enemy's flank, served to increase the consternation 
which was beginning to pervade their unwieldy body. In about 
twenty minutes after the settlers had taken their stand, the front of 
the enemy began to recoil." " The Americans perceiving their ad- 
vantage, now regained possession of the western post, and instantly 
brought the long nine to rake the whole line of the enemy. Im- 
agination can scarcely figure to itself a throng of human beings in 
a more capital state of exposure to the destructive power of the 
machinery of modern warfare!" "Their fire suddenly teinvna ted. A 
savage yell was raised, which filled the dismal forest with a momen- 
ryhoiror. It gradually died away; and the whole host disappear- 
ed. At 8 o'clock, the well known signal of their dispersion and re- 
turn to their homes, was sounded, and many small parties seen at a 
distance, directly afterwards, moving off" in different directions. 
One large canoe, employed in reconveying a party across the mouth 
of the Montserado, venturing within range of the long gun, was 
struck by a shot, and several men killed." 

" One woman who had imprudently passed the night in the house 
first beset by the enemy, had received thirteen wounds, and been 
thrown aside as dead. Another, flying from her house with her 
two infant children, received a wound in the head, from a cutlass, 
and was robbed of both her babes ; but providentially escaped. A 
young married woman, with the mother of five small children, find- 
ing the house in which they slept surrounded by savage enemies, 
barricadoed the door, in the vain hope of safety. It was forced. 
Each of the women then seizing an axe, held the irresolute barba- 
rians in check for several minutes longer. Having discharged their 
guns, they seemed desirous of gaining the shelter of the house pre- 
vious to reloading. At length, with the aid of their spears, and by 
means of a general rush, they overcame their heroine adversaries, 
and instantly stabbed the youngest to the heart. The mother, in- 
stinctively springing for her suckling babe, which recoiled through 
fright, and was left behind, rushed through a small window on the 
opposite side of the house, and providentially escaped to the lines, 
unhurt, between two heavy fires. The Agent had caused a return 
to be made at 9 o'clock, which certainly exhibited a melancholy 



32 

statement of the loss sustained by the little company. But it was 
animating to perceive that none — not even the wounded in tlieir 
severest sufferings, were dispirited, or insensible of the signal Prov- 
idence to which they owed the successful issue of their struggle. 

" It never has been possible to ascertain the number of the enemy 
killed or disabled on this occasion. The only entry made on the 
subject in the ColonialJournal, is dated November 15th ; and states, 
' The following circumstances prove the carnage to have been, for 
the number engaged, great. A large canoe, from which the dead 
and wounded could be seen to be taken, on its arriving at the oppo- 
site side of the Montserado, and which might easily carry twelve men, 
was employed upwards of two hours in ferrying them over. In this 
time, not less than ten to twelve trips must have been made. It is 
also known, that many of the wounded were conveyed away along 
the south beach, on mats: and that the dead left of necessity in the 
woods, where many fell, were carried off by their friends every night. 
But two days ago, twenty-seven bodies were discovered by a party 
of friendly Condoes employed by the Agent for the purpose. On 
entering the wood, the offensive effluvium from putrid bodies, is at 
this time intolerable.' " 

This battle was followed by a fruitless attempt on the part of 
Mr. Ashmun to terminate the war by negotiation. During the few 
days which were thus employed, the native kings were mustering 
all their own strength, and hiring reinforcements from more dis- 
tant tribes, for a new attack. Of their proceedings, Mr. A. had 
constant intelligence, and the settlers were constantly employed in 
making their defences more complete. On the evening of No- 
vember 28th, information was received " that the attack was to be 
renewed with double the number of warriors emplo)'ed on the lltb, 
at day-light on the following morning." 

" The Agent for the first time spent the whole night at the differ- 
ent posts ; and had the satisfaction to perceive every man attentive 
to his duty, and every thing connected with the defence in a state of 
the most perfect preparation. The wood had been cleared for a 
considerable space about the town. The enemy in order to ap- 
proach within musket shot of the works, was obliged to place him- 
self unsheltered, in the open field ; and could advance upon no 



33 

point which was not exposed to the cross-fire of two or more of 
the posts." 

The circumstance that an EngUsh vessel was lying off the cape, 
induced the native leaders to defer the battle till the following day. 

" November 30th was spent by the people in the order of action, 
as it was known that the enemy in the neighborhood were in the 
actual observation of all that passed within the hnes. No pickets 
could be safely trusted during the ensuing night without the enclo- 
sure ; but the men attached to the different stations were ranged 
along the stockade at five yards distance from each other, with or- 
ders to repair to their guns on the moment the alarm was given. 
The Agent, spent with the fatigue of waking two successive nights, 
liad reclined at thirty minutes past four upon the light arms which 
lie carried, when the onset was made. The works were attacked 
at the same moment on nearly opposite sides. The enemy's west- 
ern division had made their way along the muddy margin of the 
river, under the protection of the bank, to the northwestern angle 
of the palisade ; when, on rising the bank so as to become visible 
from the western post, they had opened upon it a sudden and brisk 
fire ; which was promptly and very steadily returned by the iron 
gun, supported by the reserve field piece from the center. The 
assailants were repulsed with considerable loss. Ten minutes af- 
terwards they renewed the onset, and forcing their way higher up 
the bank than before, contended with greater obstinacy, and suffer- 
ed still more severely. A third attempt was made to carry this 
post ; but with the same ill success. 

"On the opposite quarter the assault had commenced at the 
same moment, with still greater vigor. A large body had conceal- 
ed themselves under a piecipitous ledge of rocks forty yards dis- 
tant ; whence they crept nearly concealed from view, within the 
same number of feet of the station ; when they suddenly rose, de- 
livered their fire, and rushed forward with the utmost fury. At this 
moment the two gun battery was unmasked, and opened upon them 
with immediate effect. After a very few discharges, the body of 
the enemy having thrown themselves flat upon the earth, disappear- 
ed behind the rocks. Their marksmen had taken their stations be- 
hind projecting rocks, fallen trees, and large ant-hills, and still kept 
up a constant and well directed fire ; under the cover of which the 

5 



34 

main body rallied and returned to the attack not less than four 
times ; and were as often repulsed by the well directed fire of the 
large guns : which was purposely reserved for those occasions. 

" The Agent at this moment perceiving the enemy in motion to- 
wards the right, under cover of a small eminence which favored 
their design, proceeded to the southern post, which had not yet 
been engaged, and ordered it to open upon them the moment their 
movement brought them within the range of its guns. The oider 
was punctually obeyed ; which exposed a large number of the as- 
sailants to a galling cannonade both in front and flank, in a situa- 
tion where their own arms could prove of no eflectual service to 
them. The assault on the opposite side of the town had been al- 
ready repulsed ; and the signal for a general retreat immediately 
followed." 

" The attack upon the eastern post, was prolonged ninety min- 
utes ; and of the two, was much tlic most oljstinate and bloody. Three 
of the men serving at the guns of that station, Gardiner, Crook, 
and Tines, were very badly, the last mortally, wounded. The 
Agent received three bullets through his clothes, but providential- 
ly escaped unhurt. As the natives in close action load their mus- 
kets (which are of the largest caliber) with copper and iron slugs, 
often to tlie enormous measure of twelve inches, their fire is com- 
monly very destructive. In this conflict of scarcely an hour and a 
half, the quantity of shot lodged in tlic paling, and actually thrown 
within tlie lines, is altogether incredible ; and that it took efiect in 
so few cases can only be regarded as the eftect of the special guardi» 
anshjp of Divine Providence." 



B. 

A memoir of the life of Mr. Ashmun, is expected, Jjom one well 
fitted for the work. A few facts and dates will Jicic be subjoined. 

lie was born at Ghamplain, Clinton county, New York, in April, 
1794. From childhood he exhibited an ardent thirst for knowl- 
edge ; and many of the hours which he could redeem from labor 
were spent in study. 



35 

At the age of about fifteen, he became the subject of decided and 
permanent religious impressions. He had previously imbibed some 
sceptical notions, and had indulged a strong dislike to the doctrines 
and duties of the gospel. But that grace of God which arrested 
Saul, and made the persecutor an apostle, had also ordained him 
a chosen vessel to himself, to bear his name before the Gentiles. 
After a severe invj^ard conflict, he found peace in submitting to the 
Saviour and believing the promises of God. 

His attention was immediately turned toward the gospel minis- 
iry. He entered college at Middlebury. While there his studies 
were interrupted by ill health ; and he seemed at one time to be 
sinking under a pulmonary consumption. He graduated at the 
university of Vermont, in 1816, 

Not long afterwards, he was employed as a teacher in the Lite- 
rary and Theological Institution, then recently commenced at Ban- 
gor, in Maine. He was licensed to preach. Afterwards he resi- 
ded at the city of Washington, where at one time he assisted in ed- 
iting the " Theological Repertory," an able and liberal religious 
miscellany, conducted by individuals of the Episcopal church. The 
task of compiling a memoir of the Rev. Samuel Bacon, who had 
died in Africa while in the service of the Colonization Society, was 
entrusted to him ; and the volume which he published, while it is a 
valuable memorial of a truly excellent man, is honorable to the liter- 
ary character and the christian feelings of its author. Becoming 
deeply interested in the cause of Africa, he issued the prospectus, 
and published a few numbers of a Journal devoted to that cause. 
Public feeling was not then prepared to sustain him in the under- 
taking, and the work was discontinued. 

In 1822, the Managers of the Colonization Society, were pre- 
paring to send out a small reinforcement, and the Navy Department 
was making arrangements to send back to their own country, a few 
native Africans taken from a slave ship. A vessel was chartered 
by the government and the society, and Mr. Ashmun was appointed 
to take charge of the expedition, with authority to act as Agent for 
both, in case he should find no Agent at the colony. He went ex- 
pecting to return by the same vessel. The sequel the reader knows. 

While he resided in Africa, his health, except as he suffered fi-om 
special exposure or fatigue, was equ^l at least, to what it had beey 



36 

for some years previous. In the month of January last, a period of 
long and exhausting- effort during the heavy rains, made him unfit 
for business ; and on the 26th of March he embarked for his native 
country, hardly expecting to survive the passage. The vessel after 
a long voyage touched at St. Bartholomews ; and as the continu- 
ance of his voyage at that time, threatened certain and speedy 
death, lie was left behind. In the course of a few weeks, the vio- 
lence of his disease seemed abating ; and he ventured to embark 
on board a vessel bound for New Haven, where he arrived on the 
10th of August. From that time his descent to the grave was 
rapid. The best medical skill was called to his assistance, but in 
vain. His disease had become inveterate. 

The result he anticipated with great composure. The first time 
that I saw him he told me, " I have come here to die. It is hard to 
be broken down by the slow progress of disease. I wish to be sub- 
missive. My sins, my sins ; they seem to shut me out from that 
comfort which I wish to enjoy." A day or two afterwards, advert- 
ing to the same subject, he said, " I have been praying for light, 
and a little light has come, cheering and refreshing beyond expres- 
sion." From that time, though I saw him daily, and though he 
often spoke of dying, I never knew him to intimate the least solici- 
tude. Requesting the prayers of the congregation on the sabbath, 
he said, " I have a desire to recover, but I do not wish that to be 
the burthen of the prayer. Let it be that I may acquiesce entirely 
in the will of God, and may have communion with God. I wish the 
colony to be remembered." Here he burst into tears like a child. 
" Excuse my weakness," said he, " there are many good people 
there, and they are so dear that when I think of seeing them no 
more, my feelings are too strong." The kindness, patience, and 
piety of his disposition made a deep impression on all his attend- 
ants ; and when he died, those who had so lately been strangers 
to him, wept as if he had been tiieir early friend. 

He died^falling asleep as it were in a moment, reason, memory, 
speech, and every taculty holding out to the last, on Monday, Au- 
gust 25th, at 12 in the evening. 



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